


Acts of Intimacy

by smaychel



Category: Glee
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 06:19:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaychel/pseuds/smaychel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>lemmesay requested asexual Kurt in a romantic relationship with sexual Blaine - this is that request filled.</p>
<p>This pairing is saccharine sweet, lovely to write.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acts of Intimacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fullofbloodandhoney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullofbloodandhoney/gifts).



Kurt likes the deft movement of Blaine's hands on him, how they skim his skinny ribs and flatten against his concave stomach, how they cup his hips just a little too tight. Blaine always feels so warm against him at these times, and he's almost always smiling in that way he has where he _knows_ he's charming you. It makes Kurt flutter inside, makes him glow.

 

What it doesn't make him, is aroused.

 

And that's nothing to do with Blaine. Blaine is... he's _perfection_. Kurt just doesn't feel things that way, that's all. It's not like it's a big deal or anything.

 

Well, all right, it's a bit of a big deal. And, yes, when he'd first confessed it to Blaine there had been some tears and hyperventilation and _oh-god-this-is-the-end-for-us-isn't-it_ freaking out on his part, while Blaine had just sat there on the end of Kurt's bed, heartstoppingly beautiful where he was framed against the dove pale sheets, quietly processing, quietly waiting for Kurt's anxiety to burn itself out.

 

The thing Kurt had most wanted to make him understand was that it really wasn't him. Kurt had just _never_ felt... you know, that way. He'd always thought that it would change in its own time – he was just a late bloomer, he was just waiting for Prince Charming to sweep him off his feet and then, for sure, he'd feel whatever it was people were supposed to feel after all the feet-sweeping and princely charm.

 

I mean, he knew enough to know he was gay, right? He knew that the guys on the football team made his chest tight in a way the girl cheerleaders never had. So it made sense that the more intimate feelings, they were just waiting until the time was right for being... intimate.

 

Blaine had actually been the one to change that. Because Blaine is perfect, Blaine is the boyfriend Kurt has always dreamt of, he's cute and he's charming and he sings like he was born to make music, his hands are gentle and his eyes are sharp and he makes Kurt feel safe and giddy all at once. But there's still nothing stirring below the waist. No matter how much he wanted to feel it back then, no matter how much he wanted to be normal in just this one way, just this once, so he could keep hold of the beautiful boy sat at the end of his perfectly made bed on that awful, embarrassing day when he'd forced the words out - “I think I'm asexual.”

 

“Right,” Blaine had said carefully, as if weighing the word with his voice. “What do you mean by that, exactly?”

 

He was ruffled, still, from where they'd been stretched out on the bed side by side with their fingertips on each other's faces, shirt buttons, the spaces in between. Not ruffled enough that anyone else would have noticed it, but Kurt knows that Blaine is usually neat as a button, not a hair out of place. With just his top button undone and his lower lip, right there, ever so slightly red from their lazy, going-nowhere kisses, he looked absolutely debauched.

 

He'd explained it, as best he could. About the footballers and the cheerleaders, about the website he'd found which had taught him words like _asexual_ and _homoromantic_ , about how he'd wished so hard that it would all go away and they would never have had to have this conversation. He'd felt so ineloquent. It wasn't a feeling he was used to. He'd felt like everything was about to end.

 

“Breathe, Kurt.”

 

And then Blaine's warm hands on his shoulders, the slow little circles his thumbs made on the dark purple linen shirt. He'd nodded, unable for once to make any more words come.

 

“It's okay. I'm glad you told me.”

 

Kurt could have cried right then, could have broken down and sobbed with outright relief. “Really?”

 

“Hey, come on,” Blaine had said, wrapping his arms around Kurt's shoulders in a way that made him feel completely encircled. “It's not a big deal,” he said. “It'll be okay. We'll make it work, right?”

 

They'd stayed like that for some time, the silence spinning out, somehow tremulous and certain all at once.

 

It's always been this way for them, Kurt thinks, even before they put words to his asexuality. Behind the closed bedroom door everything is softer and more intimate, despite the lack of some of the more usual and overt forms of intimacy. By themselves, here, they are quiet and slow. Together in a way that's more private than anywhere else.

 

It was in that silent, half-understood moment that Kurt first began to realise that that wasn't going to change. That, really, _nothing_ was going to change. Not in any way that mattered.

 

“What made you tell me now?” Blaine had asked him, and he can laugh now at the memory of how he'd blushed and sputtered and tried to come up with any other way in the world of saying _I felt your erection against my leg and panicked_.

 

After quiet conversation and gentle experimentation, they find their own ways around it. They compromise, discover things that make them both happy. Kurt loves Blaine's eyes when he's wound so tight with wanting that his self control starts to slip and he looks at him with something like hunger. Blaine loves it when he can coax Kurt into saying words like _erection_ and _ejaculate_ and _orgasm_. “God, your voice,” he says, and closes his eyes like he's undone by it.

 

Kurt's not frightened of this stuff, he's not grossed out by it. It's him and Blaine, it's _gorgeous_. He just enjoys it in a different way. “It's not a big deal,” Blaine says, and Kurt starts to believe him.

 

They kiss a lot, in this room. It's something Kurt particularly enjoys. Blaine undresses him piece by slow piece, takes off all Kurt's beautiful clothes and spreads him out bare on the grey sheets. He thumbs Kurt's clavicle, his jawline, the hollow places at his hips. He hovers above him and looks and looks, until his hands are shaking as they work their way into in his own pants and he's asking “Is this okay?” in a voice so quietly ragged it might break.

 

Kurt nods. He spreads his arms wide against the pillow above his head, and feels beautiful in a way he never has before, even in his most confident moments. “This is okay,” he says, as Blaine jerks himself off above him.

 

When Blaine's done, his pants are wet – Kurt can see the stain spreading through the fabric and he reaches out a finger to trace the outline of it. Blaine hisses behind his teeth.

 

Kurt smiles, and feels sleepy and satisfied for no reason.

 

Afterwards is always the best time. They lie tangled up close together, loose-limbed and indolent. Kurt wonders if this is what people mean by the word afterglow. Blaine's skin has a sheen to it, and they smile at each other a lot, touching in ways that seem meaningless.

 

“What do you get out of this?” Kurt says, in a rare serious moment when they're skin to skin beneath sheets the color of rain.

 

“I could ask you the same thing.” Blaine watches him, and then, when Kurt's frown doesn't lift, “You,” he says. “I get you.”

 

_This. Us._ Kurt hears the words in the spaces between what's said and unsaid, in the hand on his waist and the breath on his neck and the way Blaine hums when he's almost asleep.

 

_It's enough._


End file.
